tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-78377441897964482042016-09-07T21:21:12.381-07:00Peanut-Butter and Jelly SandwichesLittle Crows Nesthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10368164692161182055noreply@blogger.comBlogger54125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7837744189796448204.post-62477743306490775082010-04-17T10:26:00.000-07:002010-04-17T10:28:07.305-07:00Pathophysiology<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_1q_QPhU28p0/S8nubJrP28I/AAAAAAAAAug/-K2YCk4pzyE/s1600/nursing+books.bmp" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_1q_QPhU28p0/S8nubJrP28I/AAAAAAAAAug/-K2YCk4pzyE/s400/nursing+books.bmp" width="300" wt="true" /></a></div><br />Just in case anyone is wondering where I've been these last few months...I've just been doing a little light reading.&nbsp; No worries, I'm still alive, barely.&nbsp; One of these days I'll pick blogging back up...for now, I have to go look up the term hyperbetalipoproteinemia.&nbsp; Wish me luck!Little Crows Nesthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10368164692161182055noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7837744189796448204.post-42027691055882663652010-02-09T15:28:00.000-08:002010-02-09T15:28:36.893-08:00I Feel Like the Rabbit From Alice in WonderlandNo time for this, no time for that, no time to wait, no time to loose....I'm late, I'm late, I'M LATE.&nbsp; (No, for all you who are reading WAY too much into the "I'm Late" bit...I'm not pregnant.!)&nbsp; It's just so difficult these days to find time to do anything...I'm so busy with nursing school that I don't have any extra minutes to spare in the short 24 hours allotted in a day.&nbsp; If I'm not in class, I'm studying.&nbsp; If I'm not studying, I'm thinking about all the studying I need to be doing.&nbsp; Bless my dear husbands heart...he has been left standing solo where chores and meals are concerned, as I run around like a&nbsp;frantic crazy woman.&nbsp; I will say this,&nbsp;I can always count on him to pick up the pieces where I fall short as I attempt to do what I can.&nbsp; Sometimes that's nothing at all.&nbsp; "Mr. Mom"???...yes indeed.&nbsp; He does it all.<br /><br />When I think about all that is being sacrificed for the sake of my education, I never have to wonder if it's all worth it.&nbsp; I never have to consider quitting or taking a break.&nbsp; I never have to think if what I'm doing is the right thing, because the support I have from JB and my family is overwhelming.&nbsp; I feel so fortunate to be in this position in my life where going to school is an option, and I feel comforted knowing that although I feel like my time is limited,&nbsp;the love shown to me is limitless, and my husbands support is unwavering.<br /><br />...And although I feel like the little rabbit from Alice in Wonderland, JB keeps me grounded enough to know when it's time to stop spinning...Little Crows Nesthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10368164692161182055noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7837744189796448204.post-61787971842057333012010-01-20T17:00:00.000-08:002010-01-20T17:00:17.242-08:00Why Nursing?For the past 2 years I've devoted my life to being a student with the ultimate goal of getting into the RN program and becoming a nurse. To have accomplished my goal of entering the program was a huge relief to me because my grades depended on it. Now that I'm in the program and have completed my first week, I have felt exhaustion that I haven't experienced in a long time. To say I am overwhelmed is a gross understatement!<br /><br /><br />In one of my courses, we were assigned the task of writing down our reasons for wanting to become a nurse. As I pondered on what to say, I was discouraged at the thought that I may have forgotten why I choose this profession in the first place. I soon realized that I hadn’t forgotten, I just thought my reasons were silly and not reasonable enough to choose such a demanding profession. Why? Why would I decide to put myself through such a grueling education? <br /><br />This is why.<br /><br />Although I have been a very healthy person all my life, and haven't spent much time in the hospital, my experiences giving birth to four children was enough for me to want to make a difference in other peoples lives. And now that I'm in school and only a week into the program, I have confirmed, without a doubt, that this is where I am meant to be.<br /><br />With my first 2 pregnancies, I had labor and delivery nurses that I felt, even at the time but more so now, were not meeting my needs and who treated me like a room number and not a person or a patient. My thoughts and feelings and concerns about giving birth were squashed, and therefore I didn't feel confident enough to ask for the things I needed, or even ask questions that I thought were silly. With Shelby my admitting nurse negated the pain I felt with each contraction I experienced, and since pain is subjective to the patient, a professional should never make them feel as though they are a baby for feeling it. That's how I felt, and that's why I didn't speak up when my epidural failed to relieve my pain, resulting in a physically and emotionally painful experience. (24 hours to be exact). <br /><br />I felt similarly when I was in labor with Corban. Although the pain was not an issue that time (because my doctor went with a different option for pain relief), I felt as though I wasn't being heard when I insisted that my baby was coming, especially after only dilating to a 4 the last time the nurse checked me 30 minutes earlier. Instead of setting my mind at ease by doing another check, she made me feel like I didn't know what I was talking about, and that I was inconveniencing her. After I insisted that she check me, she did so and not-so-calmly told me that I was dilated to a 10 and hastily ran out the door to call the doctor. My baby was, in fact, coming and without me speaking up I would have given birth in a hospital by myself.<br /><br />In contrast, my deliveries with Sabrina and Colby were very different than the previous two. My nurses held my hand, patted my arm, asked how I was doing with the pain, asked what they could do to make my stay more comfortable...and this made all the difference in the world. I felt a sense of ease and safety from my caregivers and the staff, which in turn, resulted in a more positive experience for me. I was amazed at how differently I was treated and cared for.<br /><br />That was the moment when I knew that I wanted to be a nurse.&nbsp; I can't say that I will change anyones life dramatically by being a nurse, but even if I merely care for someone in a manner in which they expect to be cared for, I have&nbsp;been successful.Little Crows Nesthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10368164692161182055noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7837744189796448204.post-34413885758638832752009-12-07T18:10:00.000-08:002009-12-07T18:10:13.454-08:00Sneak Peek<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_1q_QPhU28p0/Sx20yBQfX5I/AAAAAAAAAuY/gD7rodB7TYg/s1600-h/1207091418-1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_1q_QPhU28p0/Sx20yBQfX5I/AAAAAAAAAuY/gD7rodB7TYg/s400/1207091418-1.jpg" /></a><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">&nbsp;<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_1q_QPhU28p0/Sx20buWnniI/AAAAAAAAAtg/Fo1sdEtzSq8/s1600-h/1207091409-1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_1q_QPhU28p0/Sx20buWnniI/AAAAAAAAAtg/Fo1sdEtzSq8/s400/1207091409-1.jpg" /></a><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_1q_QPhU28p0/Sx20fn5g-EI/AAAAAAAAAto/4UVMA_CmmVk/s1600-h/1207091410-1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_1q_QPhU28p0/Sx20fn5g-EI/AAAAAAAAAto/4UVMA_CmmVk/s400/1207091410-1.jpg" /></a><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">&nbsp;<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1q_QPhU28p0/Sx20ij5qjII/AAAAAAAAAtw/GEErTOG_dwg/s1600-h/1207091410a-1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1q_QPhU28p0/Sx20ij5qjII/AAAAAAAAAtw/GEErTOG_dwg/s400/1207091410a-1.jpg" /></a><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_1q_QPhU28p0/Sx20lgKTWUI/AAAAAAAAAt4/8YhvthkVyOU/s1600-h/1207091411-1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_1q_QPhU28p0/Sx20lgKTWUI/AAAAAAAAAt4/8YhvthkVyOU/s400/1207091411-1.jpg" /></a><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_1q_QPhU28p0/Sx20pB25D5I/AAAAAAAAAuA/z0LIPQub7zQ/s1600-h/1207091411a-1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_1q_QPhU28p0/Sx20pB25D5I/AAAAAAAAAuA/z0LIPQub7zQ/s400/1207091411a-1.jpg" /></a><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_1q_QPhU28p0/Sx20sAB3FPI/AAAAAAAAAuI/IRFJBY0cZvc/s1600-h/1207091412-1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_1q_QPhU28p0/Sx20sAB3FPI/AAAAAAAAAuI/IRFJBY0cZvc/s400/1207091412-1.jpg" /></a><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">&nbsp;<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1q_QPhU28p0/Sx20vDoMB1I/AAAAAAAAAuQ/6dULi3BhVs4/s1600-h/1207091412a-1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1q_QPhU28p0/Sx20vDoMB1I/AAAAAAAAAuQ/6dULi3BhVs4/s400/1207091412a-1.jpg" /></a><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div>Little Crows Nesthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10368164692161182055noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7837744189796448204.post-33703764522618383212009-11-22T12:07:00.000-08:002009-11-23T05:24:12.738-08:00Four Little Crows in a Tree<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_1q_QPhU28p0/SwmXAM3THQI/AAAAAAAAAsI/jye6Hf3N4aI/s1600/1108091441-1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_1q_QPhU28p0/SwmXAM3THQI/AAAAAAAAAsI/jye6Hf3N4aI/s400/1108091441-1.jpg" /></a><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">Left to Right:&nbsp; Colby, Corban, Sabrina and Shelby<br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">Angel Mounds, Newburgh, Indiana - November 2009<br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i>~ Crow Photography ~</i><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">A few weeks ago, our family went to Angel Mounds in Newburgh, Indiana.&nbsp; Although this historical site is practically minutes away, the children have only visited this place on field trips with classmates, and never as a family.&nbsp; That day was the most beautiful, abnormally warm day in November, I've ever experienced.&nbsp; We were the ONLY people on the grounds, which allowed us to travel from site to site without the pressure of other patrons scooting us along.<br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">As we walked down the paths and soaked in all the beauty surrounding us, we came upon a large tree with a spectacular limb reaching out one side of its enormous body.&nbsp; The tree was calling to us, as if it yearned and pleaded for the companionship of little children climbing and scampering up and down its massive trunk.&nbsp; What else could we do but help our children up to swing on the begging tree-limb?...and what a sight to behold!&nbsp; We snapped a picture to mark the occasion, and now, that day is one we will fondly remember for a long time.<br /><br /><br /></div>Little Crows Nesthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10368164692161182055noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7837744189796448204.post-37605520777061556562009-10-23T11:44:00.000-07:002009-10-23T13:08:23.134-07:00Blogger Etiquette<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_1q_QPhU28p0/SuH6C8DeYwI/AAAAAAAAAr4/k7EvMxuaPcg/s1600-h/blog_logo.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_1q_QPhU28p0/SuH6C8DeYwI/AAAAAAAAAr4/k7EvMxuaPcg/s400/blog_logo.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5395868756953948930" border="0" /></a><br />There are many reasons as to why a person creates a blog. Some use this forum as a way of updating friends and family from far away about the happenings and goings-on in their lives. Some use it as a way of sharing their experiences of <a href="http://www.mattlogelin.com/">loss and heartache</a>. Some blog so they can feel like they are <a href="http://www.thespohrsaremultiplying.com/">not alone</a> in this world that makes no sense sometimes. Some share their experiences as a way of healing and grieving, and some to help others save a few pennies and live <a href="http://www.clippingcouponsmakescents.blogspot.com/">frugally</a>. I've read blogs about religion, science, and all manner of different topics, all of which are unique in their own right.<br /><br />Regardless of the reasons why we blog, the time and effort put into making the blog our own personal space is sacred to us. Picking out the background, pictures, and messages are an important part of creating a place for us to share our personality with those who read our posts. We bare our souls to the cyber-world and, to some degree, demand respect from those who read our carefully articulated words.<br /><br />As much as I know this about myself when I created this blog, I lost sight one time of just how special this little corner of the internet is to those, like me, who section it off for our personal use. You see, I left a comment on a strangers blog that, I'm sure, wasn't received in a positive manner. I left my message anonymously, because I was too chicken to put my name next to my opinionated words. I was a coward. It wasn't until my sister-in-law was violated in a similar fashion on her blog, that I truly realized my error. I too, was appalled at the person leaving an unsolicited comment where it wasn't wanted or even appreciated. It was only then that I realized the gravity of my insensitive comment, on a blog I had no business sharing my opinion on.<br /><br />I love comments, and sometimes I anxiously wait to see what people may think about what I've written. Of course, I never intend on reading something negative attached to a column I put so much effort into sharing. I can only imagine the disappointment someone else may feel as they turn on their computer, click on their own blog, and find something undesirable in the comment box.<br /><br />I'm sorry.<br /><br />I've learned that although I may feel a specific way about something someone else wrote, there is a certain etiquette in the blogging world, and I have no right leaving an unpleasant comment on a strangers personal blog, because in doing so, I am disregarding the feelings of someone else.Little Crows Nesthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10368164692161182055noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7837744189796448204.post-61157447352366859902009-10-12T16:04:00.000-07:002009-10-12T16:24:53.816-07:00Fish-Face<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1q_QPhU28p0/StO6hfE9rqI/AAAAAAAAArY/TkWqLq23BVk/s1600-h/0926091517-2-1.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 376px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1q_QPhU28p0/StO6hfE9rqI/AAAAAAAAArY/TkWqLq23BVk/s400/0926091517-2-1.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5391858263333383842" border="0" /></a><br />For your viewing pleasure----> Colby and me making funny fish-faces!Little Crows Nesthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10368164692161182055noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7837744189796448204.post-64591250836335554722009-10-07T06:29:00.000-07:002009-10-07T07:24:08.651-07:00Going Out on a Limb<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_1q_QPhU28p0/Ssyi_T7lCqI/AAAAAAAAArI/IGMdir-M3j4/s1600-h/320704-FB.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_1q_QPhU28p0/Ssyi_T7lCqI/AAAAAAAAArI/IGMdir-M3j4/s400/320704-FB.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5389862062621264546" border="0" /></a><br />I have always freely admitted that I don't have all the answers, and that I'm willing to hear and learn another persons perspective. I always try to choose my words wisely when expressing my point of view, so as to not offend someone else for their feelings. I make a tremendous effort to communicate and present myself in a way that won't come off narcissistic or accusatory, because to me, respectful communication is key to expressing oneself clearly. How else can a person know how you feel if you don't tell them? However, this doesn't change the fact that I sometimes say things that offend other people, and not because I was rude or insensitive, but because no matter how I present myself, the one receiving my words will take offense regardless of my efforts.<br /><br />The questions I have are these: <br /><br />--Do you stop communicating about things that may be uncomfortable just because it may make someone else upset?<br /><br />--Do you refrain from explaining yourself due to fear that the reaction you may get will be unpleasant? <br /><br />--Do you allow others to treat you in a way that you wish not to be treated just because you know that if you tell them that you don't like it, they will get mad at you, even though their anger isn't about what you said, but the fact that they don't want to admit that they need to change?<br /><br />--Or do you go out on a limb, and respectfully say what you need to say for the sake of gaining a stronger, more connected, bond between someone you care about and love, hoping that they will put aside their pride and hear you because they feel the same way about you?<br /><br />These are questions that I've been asking myself for the last few months. I'm sure the monotony of reading the many posts from this blog that share the same tone is getting old. It's helpful to me to express myself constructively, and to organize the thoughts bouncing around in my head, and this is the reason for the reoccurring theme. I'm sure, with time, my thoughts will be turned to other topics of interest worthy of this blog, but for now, I shall work it all out until I can't work it anymore...or until I come to realize that I can't force someone to react rationally, no matter how hard I try to present myself with the greatest of respect.Little Crows Nesthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10368164692161182055noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7837744189796448204.post-29183859672729963492009-10-06T12:07:00.000-07:002009-10-06T20:09:30.973-07:00Bridging the Gap<div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_1q_QPhU28p0/SsuVvbe0ZaI/AAAAAAAAAqw/mzManFn8VGg/s1600-h/Bittenbenders_luz.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_1q_QPhU28p0/SsuVvbe0ZaI/AAAAAAAAAqw/mzManFn8VGg/s400/Bittenbenders_luz.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5389566021142341026" border="0" /></a><br />Bittenbender's Covered Bridge<br />Built by Frank Monroe in 1888<br />Located in Huntington, PA<br /><br /><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size:130%;">If you think about it, a bridge is a beautiful thing. It allows for a person to reach their desired destination without having to walk for miles searching for a better, more convenient way to cross.<br /><br />...A bridge built properly, with a sturdy structure and foundation, can stand the tests of time, through all manner of inclimate weather.<br /><br />...A bridge can be the link between two pieces of breathtaking countryside, allowing for the ease of travel on a beautiful Sunday drive.<br /><br />...A bridge can bear the weight of many thousands of pounds, and an extreme amount of pressure.<br /><br />...If constructed correctly, a bridge can bend and physically expand and contract for the varying temperature and seasonal changes.<br /><br />Without years of proper care and maintenance, the structure could collapse and become unrepairable, which could result in extensive and expensive repairs or rebuilding. A broken bridge cannot be fixed without the desire, proper know-how and tools to effectively repair the areas in need of drastic attention.<br /><br />Bridges can be like relationships/friendships...<br /><br />A strong relationship/friendship, if built on a solid foundation, given the proper care, and valued for its beauty and function, can last many years without caving in around itself. If not, before you know it, you could be standing in a pile of rubble wondering where things went wrong in the construction process. The thing of it is, even when you're standing among boulders of cement, wooden beams and re-bar, a relationship</span><span style="font-size:130%;"> </span><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-size:180%;">can</span> be rebuilt--it may take a lot of work and a lot of years--but it can be done. It<span style="font-size:180%;"> </span></span><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-size:180%;">is</span> possible to re-build from the ground up with the proper maintenance and attention...<br /><br />...if the desire is there.<br /><br />If not, the only option is to clear away the rubble, plant flowers along the riverbed, and stock the stream with beautiful and exotic fish. If there's no salvaging the bridge, then the space where it once stood needs to be filled with something else. It's a shame because, the connection between the two banks will be lost, and without some sort of structure to bridge the gap, the opposite sides will remain apart.<br /><br />Hopefully one of the broken bridges in my life can be repaired. If not, I've peacefully come to the conclusion that the place where my bridge once stood, will now be filled with the things I can control--I will happily plant beautiful wildflowers and vegetation. I will visit this spot and dream about building another bridge in it's place, and I won't be sad about the one that was torn down in spite of my efforts.</span><br /></div></div>Little Crows Nesthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10368164692161182055noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7837744189796448204.post-38194870034716610682009-09-30T12:20:00.000-07:002009-10-02T11:27:20.567-07:00SHE LIKES MEI have a confession.<br /><br />I have been a horrible friend.<br /><br />I have treated my friend unkindly for quite some time and I finally decided enough was enough. I had to do something drastic to condition my relationship back to where it belongs. I decided to take drastic measures and cut out everything that split us up in the first place. I knew that once I put a little color back into my relationship with her, I would feel better about it and she would like me again. I knew that I needed to take a little time, sit down and discuss the layers of changes that I needed to make in order to shape our relationship into something manageable.<br /><br />It only took 3 hours of hacking off all the dead ends in our friendship that was keeping us from being healthy and happy with each other. It was a long time coming, this little intervention of ours, but I think it was worth it for both of us. We decided that in order to keep things going in the right direction, we'd have to sit down like this every couple of months or so, just to keep our issues from getting out of control again. And I promised to never abuse her again by being neglectful of her beauty.<br /><br />She liked that.<br /><br />Now my hair and I like each other again.<br /><b></b><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1q_QPhU28p0/SsOzFB9WBCI/AAAAAAAAAqg/2kz32Qh7ZzE/s1600-h/0930091025-1.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 312px; height: 400px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1q_QPhU28p0/SsOzFB9WBCI/AAAAAAAAAqg/2kz32Qh7ZzE/s400/0930091025-1.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5387346478271693858" border="0" /></a>Little Crows Nesthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10368164692161182055noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7837744189796448204.post-2566359863818753452009-09-23T06:08:00.000-07:002009-09-23T19:47:08.063-07:00For Next Time<div style="text-align: left;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_1q_QPhU28p0/SroeaqYz_xI/AAAAAAAAApQ/NrMGWkywBkw/s1600-h/Rain.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_1q_QPhU28p0/SroeaqYz_xI/AAAAAAAAApQ/NrMGWkywBkw/s400/Rain.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5384649747878641426" border="0" /></a>A little<br />tiny<br />droplet<br />builds<br />silently in<br />a cloud<br />high<br />above,<br />until it<br />becomes<br />powerless<br />to delay<br />her<br />any longer.<br />She seeps<br />through<br />the linings<br />of her<br />cotton-filled<br />fabric<br />home,<br />and spills<br />over<br />to begin<br />her<br />decent.<br /><br />This is<br />where her<br />journey<br />begins<br />as she<br />increases<br />in speed<br />and races<br />to the<br />ground<br />below,<br />all the while,<br />gathering<br />friends along<br />the way,<br />and growing<br />in<br />size.<br /><br />The moment<br />she reaches<br />her final<br />destination,<br />she looks<br />around<br />to see<br />her temporary<br />home,<br />and finds<br />herself<br />staring into<br />the<br />bluest eyes<br />she's ever<br />seen.<br /><br />This isn't<br />her first<br />trip falling<br />from<br />the sky<br />for days<br />at a time,<br />wondering<br />where she<br />will end<br />up<br />next.<br />And today<br />she smiles<br />as she<br />sits on the tip<br />of a<br />fantastically<br />freckled<br />nose,<br />and<br />peers out<br />at the<br />world<br />through a<br />little boy's<br />eye<br />view.<br /><br />She doesn't<br />have long<br />before<br />she'll be<br />wiped away<br />or<br />evaporated<br />into<br />thin air,<br />not even<br />a second<br />can be<br />wasted at a<br />moment<br />like<br />this.<br />So she<br />soaks up<br />the beauty of<br />what she<br />can see<br />and files<br />it away,<br />for the<br />next time<br />she<br />spills over<br />her<br />cotton-filled<br />fabric<br />home.<br /><br />-Emily Crow<br /><br /></div>Little Crows Nesthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10368164692161182055noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7837744189796448204.post-52965143147970631042009-09-11T09:26:00.000-07:002009-09-11T11:07:31.452-07:00Timing and Tolerance<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_1q_QPhU28p0/Sqp7CllSgYI/AAAAAAAAAm4/guAhrbiKu-A/s1600-h/clock.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 393px; height: 400px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_1q_QPhU28p0/Sqp7CllSgYI/AAAAAAAAAm4/guAhrbiKu-A/s400/clock.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5380247989225947522" border="0" /></a>I'm ready. The time is right.<br /><br />For quite awhile I haven't felt the drive or energy required to formulate sentences and adequately express all the thoughts and ideas that are continuously flowing through my head. I have felt as though the fire within me had dwindled and without even knowing it, I realized I had been reduced to a small pile of smoldering ash, with only a tiny burning ember keeping me going. The stresses of life, children, school, relationships, money...all of it became so draining that I just wanted to escape it all with the distraction of books, movies, Facebook...I don't know...anything. But I soon realized that no matter how distracted I made myself, those stressed would always be there.<br /><br />Life is hard and every day it becomes more and more evediant to me just how unfair it is. The world turns on her axis, every day without stopping, while the inhabitants anchored to her floor through the pull of her gravity, walk around seeing only a minute fraction of her beauty. Yet at the same time, witness enough hate, anger and unjust behavior to leave an unhealing paper cut on the soul forever.<br /><br />I question my humanity, and the humanity of those whom I encounter every day --mostly strangers, but others as well-- and I shake my head in wonder when I see the ignorant, thoughtless interactions between people that not only don't make sense to me, but probably not even to those who have behaved so irrationally. I try live a life of tolerance. But is living this way truly an attainable goal? <span style="font-style: italic;"> (just follow me, here)</span> Is there a way to live being tolerant of others belief systems and values while at the same time being intolerant of those who are intolerant of others belief systems and values--because it may very well be a persons belief to be intolerant of those they feel are wrong--therefore can I really say that I'm tolerant of others beliefs if I am intolerant of those who are intolerant? Is there a way to be both intolerant and tolerant?<span style="font-style: italic;"> Deep, I know.</span> I have experienced some inconcivable, and irrational behavior of people I know this last week or so, which have sparked these questions of humanity and tolerance.<br /><br />I'm just trying to define who I am...and right now it's not so clear. I have a few puzzle pieces scattered around me with the words "mother", "wife", "sister", "friend"...(soon one will say "nurse") written on them. But I want so much more. I want my little glowing ember to grow into a flaming fire. I want to be <span style="font-size:180%;">passionate</span> about something important, but at the same time I want to be respectful of those around me--stranger or not--because isn't that where it starts? Thinking of others first? I want to help people see that there is good everywhere, even if it's not evident. I want to put smiles on peoples faces and make their burdens just a little bit lighter, without burdening myself in the meantime. I want to love unconditionally. But most importantly, I want others to see that life is short, and times are hard, but we have to come together and hold hands to work through the hate, anger and unjust actions of the thoughtless.<br /><br />The time is now. The time is today. It has to start somewhere, and I say it starts here. At this very moment. Right--this--very--second!~ Who's with me?Little Crows Nesthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10368164692161182055noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7837744189796448204.post-75199484379868210082009-07-21T11:40:00.001-07:002009-07-21T12:08:58.723-07:00Earth to Emily<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1q_QPhU28p0/SmYRR1Lg_gI/AAAAAAAAAlw/G019Rem0pDs/s1600-h/earth.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5360991404461981186" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 274px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1q_QPhU28p0/SmYRR1Lg_gI/AAAAAAAAAlw/G019Rem0pDs/s400/earth.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div align="center"><em></em><br /></div><div align="left">My life the last several weeks has been the most hectic I have ever encountered. Attending Anatomy and Physiology 102 this summer has proven to take more out of me than I imagined. I have never studied more or functioned on as little sleep as I have during this time. I've never had trouble falling asleep either, except while I've been taking this class. I guess my brain won't shut off, so even when I'm completely exhausted, I will lay in my bed for hours thinking about all the terms and organs I need to know.</div><br /><div align="left"></div><div align="left">I've had little time to run...and my body can feel it. She longs for the expansion of the lungs that allow her to stretch and breathe deeply. I feel like my life is just surrounded by body parts and physiological terms I must memorize for the next upcoming test.</div><br /><div align="left"></div><div align="left">Since I'm taking the class during the summer, the course is crammed into an 8 week period instead of 16, and regardless of this time crunch, the material is the same. Once I finish studying for one test, I take it and then turn around and start studying for the next one. I'm literally taking 9 tests in an 8 week period. *sigh*. Needless to say, I'll be so glad when it's over and I can relax a bit before fall semester. On a positive note, once I finish this class I can apply for the nursing program starting in the spring. I'm so excited, especially to see that all my hard work has lead me to my ultimate goal. I will breath a sigh of relief once I am accepted and I start nursing school FOR REAL!</div><br /><div align="left"></div><div align="left">But until then, I must plug along. I haven't fallen off the face if the earth, yet...just stuck in my own little universe until finals, and then I will descend back to my home planet. Check out what I'm working on this week!</div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5360985347785749458" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 381px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 219px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_1q_QPhU28p0/SmYLxSTX89I/AAAAAAAAAlo/tdAk1NQpoBQ/s400/kidney.gif" border="0" /></div><br /><p align="center"><em>Anatomy of the kidney - the most recent of organs I must know inside and out - literally!~</em></p><br /><div align="center"><em></em></div>Little Crows Nesthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10368164692161182055noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7837744189796448204.post-1499619111409917492009-07-07T13:29:00.001-07:002009-07-07T13:34:08.099-07:00Great Maters<div align="center"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_1q_QPhU28p0/SlOwdYB37JI/AAAAAAAAAk4/tIG98I1cwyE/s1600-h/jakes+marigolds.bmp"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5355818400586656914" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_1q_QPhU28p0/SlOwdYB37JI/AAAAAAAAAk4/tIG98I1cwyE/s400/jakes+marigolds.bmp" border="0" /></a><em>Colby and his <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">Marigolds</span> he planted from seed. This is ONE plant! (plus 3 jalapenos pepper plants)</em> </div><br /><br /><br /><div align="center"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_1q_QPhU28p0/SlOwdOOovjI/AAAAAAAAAkw/acSgbskuPnc/s1600-h/two+little+maters.bmp"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5355818397955833394" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_1q_QPhU28p0/SlOwdOOovjI/AAAAAAAAAkw/acSgbskuPnc/s400/two+little+maters.bmp" border="0" /></a> <em>Colby peaking through at the 2 little maters starting to bud!</em></div><div align="center"><em></em><br /><br /><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_1q_QPhU28p0/SlOwciCtUII/AAAAAAAAAko/dnX8SSC9tH4/s1600-h/jake+n+maters.bmp"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5355818386094641282" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_1q_QPhU28p0/SlOwciCtUII/AAAAAAAAAko/dnX8SSC9tH4/s400/jake+n+maters.bmp" border="0" /></a> <em>Colby standing by the ever growing patio garden.</em><br /><br /><br /><div></div><br /></div>Little Crows Nesthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10368164692161182055noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7837744189796448204.post-42011252535165888402009-07-01T11:53:00.001-07:002009-07-01T12:03:56.336-07:00Detour<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_1q_QPhU28p0/SkuwyhUiGAI/AAAAAAAAAkA/69emwLL3uqw/s1600-h/detour.bmp"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5353566964044404738" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 302px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_1q_QPhU28p0/SkuwyhUiGAI/AAAAAAAAAkA/69emwLL3uqw/s400/detour.bmp" border="0" /></a>The dream is still alive; put on hold for a few days due to school, and a most <em>important</em> visit to meet my niece in Columbus. Sometimes life gets in the way of the things we want, and need, to accomplish...but stopping the progress of the thing that matters most, is an unfortunate faux pas. Moving forward, putting one foot in front of the other, and gathering strength to cross over the line previously drawn as a marker of the most recent progress, is how we survive. This is how we succeed in a world filled with roadblocks and barriers, most of which we put up ourselves.<br /><br />So I took a detour.<br /><br />My running program was delayed for a few days as I did a little slick maneuvering around the events that life had presented as more important than my current travel plans. Sometimes we need to take the scenic route, without looking at the map, to enjoy the journey to our ultimate destination. Just like the Sunday drives I so fondly remember as a child...hours of aimlessly driving down twisty back roads had always seemed to lead us back to the home-front, leaving us feeling refreshed, rejuvenated, and ready to tackle life head-on.<br /><br />Week 7 is back on, after studying for a big test and, more importantly, a 24 hour hiatus to hold a brand new baby. (Holding brand new babies trumps EVERYTHING!) Running 25 minutes straight for all three workouts has proven to take much will-power. The first 3 minutes seem to be a breeze, until the leg burn...oh that burn...then once I get passed 10 minutes...it's a cinch.<br /><br />So don't be alarmed, I'm back on track after a quick detour, and feeling better than ever!Little Crows Nesthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10368164692161182055noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7837744189796448204.post-32490452824256495782009-07-01T11:23:00.000-07:002009-07-01T11:24:36.924-07:00Twenty Five<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_1q_QPhU28p0/Skupx_zY3wI/AAAAAAAAAjw/DqLf0dwkFqc/s1600-h/39662611_c50eafa7f9.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5353559258465623810" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_1q_QPhU28p0/Skupx_zY3wI/AAAAAAAAAjw/DqLf0dwkFqc/s400/39662611_c50eafa7f9.jpg" border="0" /></a> I'm not 25 anymore...this I feel more than ever as I suspiciously glance at the little spider legs forming in the v-lines of my eyes. As I begin to cover the freckles that have grown in mass numbers on my face over the years, I stop myself with the realization of their beauty. Tiny specks that had once been referred to as "polka dots", have earned their right to dwell on my face, arms, legs...no, not my butt (Ethan), and deserve respect.<br /><br />How could I cover the very thing that defines me?<br /><br />How could I take away the part of me that makes me unique?<br /><br />Am I willing to give up the nick-name I have so rightfully earned...Freckle face?<br /><br />Closing my compact with a firm click, I vowed to proudly display the beautiful brown speckles that I've inherited from generations of red-heads with porcelain skin. I pledge to never glare at the freckle on my lip again...instead I will love the place she chose to make her home, and gloss her over with shiny color to allow her to shimmer and shine.<br /><br />No I'm not 25 anymore, but does that really matter when there are more important things to do...like counting freckles?Little Crows Nesthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10368164692161182055noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7837744189796448204.post-23479229322831888932009-06-21T17:52:00.001-07:002009-06-22T06:47:48.796-07:00Measuring Success<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_1q_QPhU28p0/Sj7V9yfWn8I/AAAAAAAAAjg/HMmmFAVHdXs/s1600-h/Measuring_Tape_on_Apple.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5349948664864743362" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 318px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_1q_QPhU28p0/Sj7V9yfWn8I/AAAAAAAAAjg/HMmmFAVHdXs/s400/Measuring_Tape_on_Apple.jpg" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:180%;">Week 6</span><br /><br />Completing the sixth week of my running program has left me on top of the world, and my endurance abilities have most definitely progressed more than I have hoped. Although I haven't seen a lot of change in my body, I can only assume the inches are melting away because the measuring tape doesn't lie.<br /><br />When I began the program, I was becoming more and more discouraged because the needle on the scale wasn't moving. I had to remind myself that the numbers may not change right away, because as my body strengthened, my muscles would weigh more. That's when I got out my measuring tape. I figured if I wasn't going to see change standing on a spring loaded scale, I might notice more if the circumference of my body changed. Well, it has. Everywhere. Bust, waist, hips, thighs, arms...all of it. It only makes sense to measure my shape since my goal is to get <em>into</em> shape.<br /><br />I did, however make my first boo-boo in the course of my workout...I got a little cocky! heehee. One, I decided to listen to different music, and because I HAVE to run to the beat in the song, I messed up my pace by running to different rhythms.<br /><br /><strong><span style="font-size:130%;">First lesson learned: Don't mess with the pace.</span><br /><br /></strong>Two, I cranked up my running level...oh boy! (This is where I got cocky). Sure, I can run faster now than I have before, it's just that I can't maintain a much faster pace for the long stretch. So, running faster wore me out quicker and I had to cut one of my running times down by 2 minutes. I realize that 2 minutes isn't that big of a deal, but for me it is. Most of my life I feel like I've cut corners, or just plain given up when things around me got hard. To some degree, I felt a bit disappointed in myself because I didn't want to feel like I was doing it again. Cutting my run short by 2 minutes was tough, but I knew that I had to do it. Instead of quiting, I just walked it off, and picked right back up with a second sequence. That was a small victory for me.<br /><br /><span style="font-size:130%;"><strong>Second Lesson Learned: Slow and steady wins the race.</strong><br /><br /></span>I have one more workout in this week's regimen, and then I start running 25 minutes without walking for all three workouts of week 7. It's all downhill from here!<br /><br />Meanwhile, here's what I've run this week:<br /><br /><span style="font-size:180%;">Week 6:</span><br /><span style="font-size:130%;">Workout 1:</span><br /><br />- Brisk 5 minute warm-up walk<br />- Jog 5 minutes<br />- Walk 3 minutes<br />- Jog 8 minutes<br />- Walk 3 minutes<br />- Jog 5 minutes<br /><br /><span style="font-size:130%;">Workout 2:</span><br /><br />- 5 minute warm-up walk<br />- Jog 10 minutes<br />- Walk 3 minutes<br />- Jog 10 minutes<br /><br /><span style="font-size:130%;">Workout 3:</span><br /><br />- 5 minute warm-up walk<br />- Jog 25 minutes with no walking!<br /><br />With a little more than 3 weeks left in my program, I can honestly say that I have loved every sweaty minute as I've inched closer and closer to my goal. I've learned that to stick to a difficult goal, and accomplish more than you set out to, is the way one can <em>truly</em> measure success.Little Crows Nesthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10368164692161182055noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7837744189796448204.post-27390154185831016722009-06-17T10:53:00.001-07:002009-06-17T19:18:28.371-07:00Moving On<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_1q_QPhU28p0/SjktsjIXFDI/AAAAAAAAAjY/tZGpYPxaSys/s1600-h/moving+day.bmp"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5348356275846976562" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 283px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_1q_QPhU28p0/SjktsjIXFDI/AAAAAAAAAjY/tZGpYPxaSys/s400/moving+day.bmp" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br />In a previous <a href="http://emilyrosehillcrow.blogspot.com/2009/01/where-do-you-draw-line.html">post</a> , I illustrated the difficulties I'd been having with some neighbors living upstairs from us, in our apartment complex. Aside from dealing with these individuals, our stay here has be fairly pleasant.<br /><br />Until one day...<br /><br />I was thrust into an uncomfortable situation where I had to act quickly. I overheard the father upstairs beating his 4 year old son. This was no ordinary spanking...this was heart breaking. I could hear every slap as his fathers hand landed on his little body. I could hear the little boy running from one side of the apartment to the other attempting, at no avail, to escape his father. I could hear the whimpers and pleas coming from this child, begging his daddy to stop.<br /><br />For someone outside this situation looking in, it may seem like a no-brianer to know what to do at this point. But for the first time, I wasn't sure. I can honestly say that I know how people feel when they claim that they don't want to get involved in situations like this. I knew that if I called the police or CPS, there would be many consequences for this family...one of which would be eviction. I knew first hand that their previous living arrangements was a shelter, and I knew that if they were evicted, they would return there. I also knew that if I called the police, the neighbors would assume that it was me who reported the incident, and therefore I felt like I was setting myself up for future confrontations. It took me all of 10 seconds to realize what I should do.<br /><br />I called 911.<br /><br />I realized that no matter the consequences of my phone call, I had an obligation to protect any child that can't defend them self. There has been so much death here in Indiana in the last 9 months, and I couldn't, and wouldn't, be responsible for not reporting this abuse. In 6 months time, 10 children (I believe, I may be off a little bit) have been killed at the hands of their parents. My only question to myself before hitting the "send" button on my cell-phone was, "How could I NOT report this?"<br /><br />Since then, life has been a little more difficult. As soon as the police left that day, the mom upstairs stomped down to the leasing office to file a complaint against <em>me</em> for calling the authorities. <em>What a joke!</em> Later that day, she was ranting and raving to other neighbors about me calling 911, calling me horrible names, and threatening to beat me up if CPS came knocking at her door. I just had to laugh because, for a waisted 10 seconds, I was worried about her and her family being thrown to the streets. So I filed my own complaints. She's lucky I didn't call the police about her threatening me...I didn't think I had a leg to stand on since she didn't speak to me directly...that's the only reason.<br /><br />Needless to say, I haven't been the only one to complain about this family, and me filing formal paperwork detailing the events that transpired, was enough to start eviction proceedings. I'm not proud of the fact that I was a part of her being kicked out, but I am not the one who beat my child, threatened a neighbor, allowed my child to pee on her air conditioner, left a loogie on her doorstep, allowed my boyfriend (with a larceny felony) to live with me and therefore commit fraud (their apt. is a government assisted unit), ...etc. I finally came to the conclusion that they evicted themselves.<br /><br />Life has a way of presenting difficult situations, and I think that it shows the depth of a persons character depending on the way they deal with these dilemmas. By all means, I am not tooting my own horn, I just feel like I've learned something about myself that I didn't know before. My loyalties in life are to my family, my good friends and to those who can't protect themselves. This, I've learned, is not up for debate.<br /><br />I don't know what will happen to the family upstairs. I don't know if their children will be taken away. I don't know if they will be homeless next month. What I do know, is she put herself in this situation, and although I will still worry about the welfare of the children in her care, I did everything in my power to protect them...it just came down to me protecting my own family, and <em>that</em> was higher on my list of priorities.Little Crows Nesthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10368164692161182055noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7837744189796448204.post-38798274697675889922009-06-11T12:33:00.000-07:002009-06-11T13:02:52.335-07:00I Think I'm in Love With my Radio<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_1q_QPhU28p0/SjFcMfai5OI/AAAAAAAAAiI/yaFvP5nlvK0/s1600-h/radio.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5346155602326512866" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_1q_QPhU28p0/SjFcMfai5OI/AAAAAAAAAiI/yaFvP5nlvK0/s400/radio.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div>Today's run was seemingly, and unexpectedly simple. I was a little surprised to finish my workout without feeling like it was taking everything in me to balance myself as the rotating belt moved beneath my feet. I'm still a little shocked that I completed the regimen with more ease than I anticipated, especially since this was the beginning of the 5th week in my program. I'm sure a lot of it has to do with the gradual, weekly progression of the running program that has allowed me to strengthen my legs and heart muscles, which, in turn, has attributed to my successful workout today. But I think it may have to do with something else.</div><div><br />Since I can remember, I've loved music. I've loved singing and dancing and writing my own lyrics. I think music is a powerful force that penetrates deeply into our bodies and brings out feelings that would otherwise smolder in the bottom of our soul. The harmony, the beat and the rhyming passages can soothe our countenance or light a fire under our butts. The melodic words can move us in ways that speak only to our hearts as we relate to the sounds vibrating in our ears.</div><div><br />Today I, one by one, fit my ear pods snugly in place, and scrolled to the song I would run to...that's when I realized something. Although the song isn't one that I would have thought would effect me, it turned out to be my driving force as I encourage myself to keep going. The beat itself has been my motivator. It's just the right pace for me to run along with; stepping in time with each pump of the base drum. <em>Radio</em> by Beyonce has been my reason for pushing myself further and further each time I step onto the treadmill. It's funny how even the simplest things can keep our heads afloat when we think we're drowning...or in my case, keep my feet moving, one in front of the other. And believe me...this week I'm gonna need the motivation.</div><div><br />Check out what Beyonce and I are running to this week:<br /></div><p><span style="font-size:180%;">Week 5<br />Workout 1<br /></span>5 minute warm-up.<br />Jog 5 minutes, walk 3 minutes<br />Repeat 3x<br /></p><p><span style="font-size:180%;">Workout 2<br />5 minute warm-up<br /></span>Jog 8 minutes, walk 5 minutes, and jog 8 more.<br /><span style="font-size:180%;"></span></p><p><span style="font-size:180%;">Workout 3<br /></span>5 minute warm-up<br />Jog 20 minutes with no walking!<br /></p><p>It's a little nerve wracking to think that by the end of this week I'll be running 20 minutes straight...without stopping...oh boy. No worries though, my girl B and I will be rocking it out together, and honestly, I can't WAIT!~</p>Little Crows Nesthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10368164692161182055noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7837744189796448204.post-88392474782851091712009-06-09T11:34:00.000-07:002009-06-11T14:11:18.125-07:00Fresh Slice<div align="center"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_1q_QPhU28p0/Si6roEDcIMI/AAAAAAAAAh4/Q0bAwDNWysE/s1600-h/n613135794_2732614_2358517.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5345398512506642626" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 301px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_1q_QPhU28p0/Si6roEDcIMI/AAAAAAAAAh4/Q0bAwDNWysE/s400/n613135794_2732614_2358517.jpg" border="0" /></a><em></em></div><div align="center"><em>Crow Farm</em></div><div align="center"><em>Photo by: John Schauss</em></div><div align="center"><em>~November 2006~</em></div><br /><br /><div align="center"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_1q_QPhU28p0/Si6rnxT3DqI/AAAAAAAAAhw/QplecRl3cRQ/s1600-h/tomato+plants.bmp"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5345398507475242658" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 357px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_1q_QPhU28p0/Si6rnxT3DqI/AAAAAAAAAhw/QplecRl3cRQ/s400/tomato+plants.bmp" border="0" /></a><em> Crow Patio</em></div><div align="center"><em>~May 2009~</em></div><div align="left"><br /><br /></div><div align="left">One of the hardest things I've had to adjust to not living out in the country, with a large garden, is not having fresh produce. I guess I took for granted the fertile land we lived on, and planted on, year after year. Although moving away from the many responsibilities of farm life seemed to relieve a lot of pressure on our family, I miss picking and eating fresh green beans right off the plant. I miss running to the garden and retrieving plump, juicy tomatoes to slice for supper. I miss watching the seedlings grow from little babies to full grown adult plants. I miss the satisfaction of loading my pantry with canned tomatoes to add to my chili in the cold winter months. And I also miss the feelings that accompany the gratification of being just a little self-sufficient.<br /></div><div align="left">I hadn't brought up my yearning for a garden to JB because I didn't want him to feel badly about our choice to down-size our home and simplify our lives. The truth is, although I long for a garden to sew and reap from, I wouldn't have our lives be any different than they are right now. Our move was a necessary step in the progression and strength of our family. I appreciate the courage it took for us to come to this conclusion and put our dreams on hold as we've strived to replace the proverbial strings that <em>were</em> holding our family in tact, with the thick cables I<em> now</em> feel binding our lives together.</div><div align="left"><br /></div><div align="left">Sometimes making the hard choices are the ones that benefit us the most. </div><div align="left"><br /></div><div align="left">Needless to say, I was thrilled to see these planters on my porch filled with three of the most beautiful tomato plants I'd ever seen. JB and the kids had done all the work, while I day-dreamed about the future where more than just tomato plants and gardens lived. I saw a life that contained more than I ever dreamed of before...because everything that I love is in it...including fresh tomatoes.</div>Little Crows Nesthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10368164692161182055noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7837744189796448204.post-31078156446030184082009-06-03T12:16:00.000-07:002009-06-03T21:18:54.242-07:00Baby Steps - Week 4 Couch to 5k<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_1q_QPhU28p0/SibTmiFEaKI/AAAAAAAAAgo/aCATLVxBeE4/s1600-h/babysteps.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5343190666858227874" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 267px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_1q_QPhU28p0/SibTmiFEaKI/AAAAAAAAAgo/aCATLVxBeE4/s400/babysteps.jpg" border="0" /></a> After completing the first day of my fourth week in the Couch to 5k running program, I can look back at my first day of week one and smile. It kinda makes me laugh when I think about how hard I thought it was just to run the first weeks regimen. Well, it <em>was</em> hard. It's just that it's not hard now. I never thought I would say that, but it's true. It reminds me of a baby learning to walk, and how wobbly the first steps are. It seems as though the baby is walking with ease within a short amount of time, after spending what seemed like forever on the floor traveling by knees.<br /><br />I think that was me...the baby crawling everywhere and not getting very far while doing it. Now, I feel like I'm wobbling my way across the room (treadmill), trying to get a grip on my bearings as a runner. I'm not quite "walking" yet, but I think with time I'll get stronger and my feet will pad the street in no time without a second thought. For now, I'm taking baby steps, and slowly working my way up to my ultimate goal...running.<br /><br />Today was exhilarating! I ran more than I have ever before, and I got choked up doing it. Even through the pain in my legs and the deep breathing, I managed to stifle my tears as I almost started to weep. I know it sounds silly, but for me it's a victory. Doing something hard, not giving up and feeling a sense of accomplishment in the meantime is a feeling that's becoming addictive. It's like my body is loving me...loving me when I didn't have the strength to love it first. Participating in this program is more than me wanting to get into shape. It's more than me wanting to be just like my little sister. It's much more than that. It's me proving to myself that I can do anything I want. I can run a 5k if I want. I can learn to play the drums if I want. I can be a better mom, wife and woman...if I want. I can even go to school, get straight "A"'s and become a nurse...if I want.<br /><br />And you know what?<br />I want. I can. I will.<br /><br />Here's what my baby steps look like this week:<br /><br /><span style="font-size:180%;">Week 4</span><br />Brisk 5 minute warm-up walk, then:<br /><ul><li>Jog 1/4 mile (or 3 minutes)</li><li>Walk 1/8 mile (or 90 seconds)</li><li>Jog 1/2 mile (or 5 minutes)</li><li>Walk 1/4 mile (or 2 1/2 minutes)</li><li>Jog 1/4 mile (or 3 minutes)</li><li>Walk 1/8 mile (or 90 seconds)</li><li>Jog 1/2 mile (or 5 minutes)</li></ul><div>As I look at the weeks I have ahead of me in my program, I still wonder if I can do it, even knowing how far I've come in the meantime. Then I remember the baby steps I've already walked, and I look forward to seeing and crossing the finish line.</div>Little Crows Nesthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10368164692161182055noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7837744189796448204.post-60888808951373144822009-05-28T10:03:00.000-07:002009-05-28T10:11:28.487-07:00Words to LIve By<span style="BACKGROUND-COLOR: #ffff00"></span><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_1q_QPhU28p0/Sh7FIKcqq-I/AAAAAAAAAgg/dPp5qsvaSVY/s1600-h/shel_silverstein.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5340922952142203874" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 282px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_1q_QPhU28p0/Sh7FIKcqq-I/AAAAAAAAAgg/dPp5qsvaSVY/s400/shel_silverstein.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><em>"Listen to the mustn'ts child. Listen to the don'ts. Listen to the shouldn'ts, the impossibles, the won'ts. Listen to the never haves, then listen close to me...Anything can happen, child. Anything can be."</em><br /><br />- Shel SilversteinLittle Crows Nesthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10368164692161182055noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7837744189796448204.post-68716954677163337032009-05-28T09:31:00.001-07:002009-05-28T10:03:40.770-07:00Couch to 5k Update<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1q_QPhU28p0/Sh68eAh3jwI/AAAAAAAAAgY/0XOHTyJ1Ekw/s1600-h/1203481271438065_file.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5340913431832137474" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 267px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1q_QPhU28p0/Sh68eAh3jwI/AAAAAAAAAgY/0XOHTyJ1Ekw/s400/1203481271438065_file.jpg" border="0" /></a> Week 3<br /><br />This week had proven to test my limits and my motivation for running. <em>What was I thinking?</em> So badly I've wanted to give up and call it a good effort on my part. So badly I've wished I never committed to running this regimen and torturing my body this way. <br /><br />The thing is, my body likes it. <br /><br />My heart likes it. <br /><br />My legs LOVE it! <br /><br />This is what I'm doing:<br /><br /><span style="font-size:180%;">Week 3</span><br />Brisk five-minute warm-up walk, followed by two repetitions of the following:<br /><ul><li>Jog 200 yards (90 seconds)</li><li>Walk 200 yards (90 seconds)</li><li>Jog 400 yards (3 minutes)</li><li>Walk 400 yards (3 minutes)</li></ul>Sounds easy enough...HA!~<br /><br />Although I've had feelings of regret as my feet are hitting the large circulating tread-belt, it's always a relief when I complete my session with success and without cheating. I've heard it said before, "Nothing that's worthwhile us ever easy. Remember that." - Nicholas Sparks. I know that if I am ever going to accomplish the things I want to achieve, I'm going to HAVE to persevere and run through the pain, because in the end, it's all for my own good.Little Crows Nesthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10368164692161182055noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7837744189796448204.post-61385628483195686662009-05-26T07:45:00.001-07:002009-05-26T07:56:59.797-07:00Time Capsule<div align="center"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_1q_QPhU28p0/ShwAvTAnaPI/AAAAAAAAAgQ/bAiV36NgmMo/s1600-h/4216_84784109595_513704595_1762550_908721_n.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5340144070711273714" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 299px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_1q_QPhU28p0/ShwAvTAnaPI/AAAAAAAAAgQ/bAiV36NgmMo/s400/4216_84784109595_513704595_1762550_908721_n.jpg" border="0" /></a> <em>Emily Hill Crow and Jedbot Crow</em></div><div align="center"><em>~1995~</em></div><div align="center"><br /><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_1q_QPhU28p0/ShwAvLU_KlI/AAAAAAAAAgI/oA9le1XyRjw/s1600-h/4216_84784114595_513704595_1762551_7216227_n.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5340144068649232978" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 299px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_1q_QPhU28p0/ShwAvLU_KlI/AAAAAAAAAgI/oA9le1XyRjw/s400/4216_84784114595_513704595_1762551_7216227_n.jpg" border="0" /></a><em> Jedbot Crow and Scott (Scooter) Keister</em><br /><em>~1995~</em><br /><br /><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_1q_QPhU28p0/ShwAuwqwXEI/AAAAAAAAAgA/0o5bXSyKEws/s1600-h/4216_84784124595_513704595_1762553_3796160_n.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5340144061492780098" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 299px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_1q_QPhU28p0/ShwAuwqwXEI/AAAAAAAAAgA/0o5bXSyKEws/s400/4216_84784124595_513704595_1762553_3796160_n.jpg" border="0" /></a><em>JB and "Matilda"</em><br /><em>~1995~<br /></em><br /><br /><div><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_1q_QPhU28p0/ShwAu58kZBI/AAAAAAAAAf4/GMudYyUGTlQ/s1600-h/4216_84784134595_513704595_1762555_2678460_n.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5340144063983412242" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_1q_QPhU28p0/ShwAu58kZBI/AAAAAAAAAf4/GMudYyUGTlQ/s400/4216_84784134595_513704595_1762555_2678460_n.jpg" border="0" /></a><em>Rob Clark and Jedbot Crow, with "Matilda"</em></div><div><em>~1995~</em><br /></div><div></div><div align="left"><span style="font-size:180%;"></span> </div><div align="left"><span style="font-size:180%;"></span> </div><div align="left"><span style="font-size:180%;">Blast from the past!</span><br /></div><br /></div>Little Crows Nesthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10368164692161182055noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7837744189796448204.post-4639264437208827872009-05-24T11:14:00.000-07:002009-05-24T11:52:02.393-07:00Lest We Forget<div align="center"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_1q_QPhU28p0/ShmOvz7uKUI/AAAAAAAAAfw/E_v5AKHIOs4/s1600-h/arlington+cemetary.bmp"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5339455785270126914" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 256px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_1q_QPhU28p0/ShmOvz7uKUI/AAAAAAAAAfw/E_v5AKHIOs4/s400/arlington+cemetary.bmp" border="0" /></a> <em>Mary McHugh mourns her fiance Sergeant James Regan at the Arlington National Cemetery. Sergeant Regan, an American Special Forces soldier, was killed by an IED explosion in Iraq.</em></div><p align="center"><em>Photo by: John Moore of Getty Images, Memorial Day May 27, 2007</em></p><p align="center"><em></em> </p><p align="left"><span style="font-size:100%;">As I scoured the internet for images I could use to show my appreciation on Memorial Day, I came across this one. It immediatly pricked my heart as I stared at this beautiful woman lying on her fiance's grave, as if she were imagining resting her head next to him. I wondered what she was doing lying there so still. Was she praying? Was she whispering to him benieth the dirt? Or was she merely grieving her loss that she hoped would never happen to her? I may never know. I would imagine that her lying on the ground was her way of being close to him...as close as she'd ever be again.</span></p><p align="left"><span style="font-size:100%;">Happy Memorial Day. May we always remember.</span></p><p align="left"> </p>Little Crows Nesthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10368164692161182055noreply@blogger.com1